Excuse Me (I'm Head Boy)
by Cheeky Slytherin Lass
Summary: Ten non-linear drabbles around Percy Weasley.:: 10. Percy begins to regret ignoring his mother's letters
1. Baby Steps

_Showtime, The Adams Administration: being fired_

 _Lyric Alley: Now my life gets better every letter that you write me._

 _Hamilton Mania, making accusations: clue ("I am the one thing in life I can control."_

 _Postal: letter fic_

 _Hard piñata_

 _Word Count: 419_

* * *

Oliver,

I am terribly sorry to hear that Puddlemere have decided to let you go. Those accusations Rita Skeeter made are absolutely ridiculous! Just say the word, and I will have a full investigation launched! I may not have my old position at the Ministry, but I can promise you I will pull every string possible.

Aside from that, how have you been? It was lovely to hear from you. Would you like to get together for lunch later this week?

Always,

Percy

* * *

Perce,

I've never had someone so eager to defend my honor. My hero.

It won't be necessary though. I am the one thing in life I can control. I've come to terms with that. In the end, I'll find something else. Rita Skeeter doesn't have a clue how valuable I still am as a player. Maybe I won't be part of Puddlemere anymore, but there are plenty of other teams out there, and I'm not losing hope.

Obviously I will have plenty of free time over the next while, so lunch would be excellent. My treat?

Yours,

Oliver

* * *

Oliver,

Hero? That's rather laughable, don't you think? I have as much courage as roast potatoes. Still, it's a nice thought. Defending your honor is my pleasure.

I'm glad you aren't taking this to heart. I have never lost a job, but I can imagine it must feel awful. But you've always been strong. That's why I've always admired you.

Which reminds me. I've been thinking a lot lately. We had something great when we were younger, remember? I was a fool back then, and I didn't treasure it the way I should have. Can we try again? I'm not talking about rushing into anything, of course. We can go slow. After all, we are having lunch together. Perhaps we can try it as more than just friends?

I think I'll send this before I make myself sound like a complete idiot.

Always,

Percy

* * *

Perce,

Hero. Maybe you aren't particularly heroic, but doesn't stop me from calling you my hero. Don't argue with me.

It isn't fun, obviously. But I'm learning to move on. Honestly, your letters make me feel so much better.

I've been thinking about that too. Look at you. You say you aren't courageous, but you asked the question I was too nervous to ask. I would love to give us another try. I miss what we had, and maybe we're ready to try again. Baby steps.

I'll see you Friday for dinner.

Yours,

Oliver


	2. Perfect Day

_Showtime, Hurricane: Indifference_

 _Hamilton Mania, disliking someone: Dungbomb (climb)_

 _Postal: Madam Puddifoot's_

 _Hard piñata_

 _459 words_

* * *

"Look who it is!" Fred calls, wearing a too bright grin as he approaches Percy's table at Madam Puddifoot's. "Our favorite prat!"

George returns his twin's grin, sitting across from Percy. "Wanna see what we've done, Perce?" he asks.

Percy refuses to react. Today is going to be a great day, and he will not let his brothers' shenanigans ruin it.

The twins don't pick up the hint. Perhaps they take his indifference as approval. Whatever their reason is George reaches into his pocket, pulling out a handful of Dungbombs. The way he smiles so proudly is terrifying, but Percy keeps calm.

"It would be a shame if these Dungbombs were to break in this nice little tea shop, wouldn't it, George?" Fred asks.

Percy takes a deep breath, remaining silent. Sometimes he has to remind himself that Fred and George are like wild animals. If he ignores him, they'll eventually go away.

"It would," George agrees, plucking one of the disgusting things from his hand and holding it closer for Percy to see. "Especially if _someone_ was here for a date."

Fred snorts. "A _date_ ," he echoes. "Reckon Pince finally accepted his advances?"

Percy bites the inside of his cheek. They must be particularly desperate to get a rise out of him. Good; maybe that means they're on the verge of giving up.

"Has he gotten more boring since becoming prefect?" George muses.

"Never would have thought that was possible."

A long stretch of silence passes. Finally, his brothers seem to grow bored. With a huff, George pockets the Dungbombs again. He climbs to his feet, shaking his head. "Your poker face is getting better," he says, reaching out and ruffling Percy's curls. "C'mon, Fred. Think we can convince Ron the Cockroach Clusters are peanuts?"

With that, the twins leave. Percy relaxes, but just barely. Somehow, the twins never fail to completely drain him. He slumps forward, resting his head against the table.

"If you have a headache, the lavender tea works wonders."

Percy looks up again, smiling to see that Oliver has arrived at last. "But will it help when my brothers are the source of my headache?" he asks.

His boyfriend laughs and sits down. "I doubt it," he says. "If you're not feeling up to it, we can always go back to our dormitory."

"No!" Percy says quickly, shaking his head. "I'm feeling much better now that you're here."

Oliver offers him a broad grin. "Did you really just use a line on me?" he laughs.

"That depends… Did it work?" Percy asks hopefully.

"I think it might have."

The waitress comes over to take their order, and Percy finally relaxes completely. Fred and George may be pure chaos, but even they can't interfere today.


	3. Silver Salvation

_Shannon's Showcase: "How did you get so brave?"/"I learned it from you."_

 _Showtime, First Burn: learn_

 _Postal: Write about your character casting a Patronus._

 _Prompt of the Day: silver_

 _379 words_

* * *

He feels the panic flood his veins, and he hates himself. War is waging all around him, but Percy feels frozen in place. He had wanted to fight and redeem himself, but he's faced with the painful truth: he is not, and has never been, a hero.

Part of him is ready to give up. What's the point in trying when there's no use? Maybe he's always been destined for this; maybe there is no happy ending for him.

Just as he's about to abandon all hope, he feels the horrific chill sink into his bones. Working at the Ministry during this dark time, Percy has become all too familiar with the way the atmosphere changes when Dementors are near. Shivering, he turns, and his heart sinks to his stomach.

They've surrounded Ginny. His sister is one of the strongest people he knows, but even she isn't a match for that man Dementors. Her posture falters, and she looks as though she's about to fall over. All that comes from her wand is a thin, silver mist.

Percy doesn't think twice. Holding his head high, he rushes forward, summoning every good memory he has.

 _Charlie buys him a new dictionary for his birthday._

 _His mum and dad smile at him, telling him that he can have his own owl._

 _Oliver Wood kisses him._

" _Expecto Patronum!_ " he cries.

The silver elephant erupts from his wand, majestically cutting through the air. Percy watches proudly as the Patronus charges. The Dementors disperse, no match for the silvery savior.

Relief washing over him, Percy closes the distance until he's beside his sister. "Are you okay?" he asks.

Ginny stares at him with wide eyes. " _You_ did that?" she asks. "Really? You took on four Dementors to save me?"

"I…" Percy adjusts his glasses, heat creeping into his cheeks. "Well, yes."

Ginny cracks a smile and wraps an arm him. "How'd you get so brave, Perce?"

"I learned it from," he chuckles. "And the others."

Ginny nods. "C'mon. I'll watch your back if you watch mine."

Percy grins as she leads the way with her wand raised. It's the first time he has felt like redemption is truly possible. He picks up his pace and follows behind. He's ready.


	4. Beginning to Heal

_Postal: Magenta_

 _Showtime, Congratulations: You have invented a new kind of stupid._

 _Slots: Percy, George, exhausted_

 _Bumper Cars: I can't be trusted around you._

 _Summer: "I'll never forget you. You're too weird."_

 _Birthstone, Sardonyx: "Don't be afraid of your silly ideas."_

 _Gryffindor: Percy_

 _Hard piñata_

 _592 words_

* * *

Percy isn't surprised to find another letter from George waiting for him at breakfast. Since the final battle, everyone in his family has reached out to him, but George has been trying the hardest. Percy has ignored letter after letter, too ashamed of himself.

Now, however, he can't resist.

 _Grand re-opening today. Hope you'll make it. He would want you there._

Percy swallows dryly, blinking back tears. He folds the letter neatly and tucks it into his shirt pocket. Maybe it's time that he finally tries again.

He only wishes it could be easier.

…

"Well, look what the sphinx dragged in!" George calls brightly, moving through the crowd that has gathered at his shop. "And here I thought you'd forgotten I existed."

"I'll never forget you," Percy assures him. "You're too weird."

His brother beams, smoothing out a crease in his magenta robes. He jerks his head slightly, gesturing for Percy to follow him. Percy obeys, awkwardly pushing his way through the crowded aisles. It occurs to him that this is the first time he's actually been in the shop. Though he had passed it by countless times, he had never bothered to even linger outside.

Acidic guilt burns his stomach. He swallows, but it doesn't soothe his insides.

"It's about time you came to visit," George says when they're alone in his office. He waves his wand, putting the kettle on.

"I didn't think you wanted to see me."

The younger man snorts, brushing his hand through his hair. Percy notices the hole where his ear had once been. Even more guilt. Percy should have been there; he should have done _something_.

"You have invented a new kind of stupid," George says at last.

"Excuse me?"

"If you really believe that I sent you countless letters asking to talk to you because I didn't want to see you… Well, mate, you're a bloody idiot. An idiot of never before seen proportions!" George says, making a hand gesture to emphasize something gigantic.

Percy feels the heat creep into his cheeks. He scrubs his palm over the nape of his neck, exhaling deeply. Tears sting his eyes, and he blinks rapidly, willing them away, but they fall, streaking his freckled face. He doesn't bother to wipe them away. "I can't be trusted around you," he says, his voice quivering. "I'm going to leave here an emotional mess."

George grins. He summons the kettle and cups before pouring the tea. Percy can't remember how long it's been since he and his brother have had tea together, but George still remembers exactly how Percy takes his. Once the cup is prepared, he places it before Percy and fixes his own. "You know, the only one who blames you for Fred's death is you," he says softly, all humor fading from his voice.

Tea spills from the cup as Percy's hands tremble. He sips his tea, searching for something to say. Finding nothing, he remains silent.

"Come to dinner. Mum misses you."

"I want to. But it… it seems silly."

"Don't be afraid of your silly ideas," George says. "I wouldn't be where I am now if I'd ignored mine and Fred's." He pauses, sipping his tea. "Come to dinner tonight."

"I dunno. I'm exhausted, and—"

"Too exhausted to see your family?" George interrupts, brows raised.

Percy starts to answer but shakes his head instead. He's so tired of running. "Tonight," he says. "I'll be there."

And when he leaves the joke shop and makes his way back home, he smiles. He is finally healing.


	5. Believe and Become

_Postal: "Be as you wish to be perceived. Be as you wish to be seen."- Socrates_

 _Insane House Challenge: perfectionist_

 _Flowers, hydrangea: old money_

 _Hard piñata_

 _542 word_

* * *

Percy stands in front of the mirror, taking a deep breath. His hands tremble as he adjusts his tie for hundredth time in five minutes. It has to be perfect; _he_ has to be perfect.

His first day of work shouldn't give him this much anxiety. He knows how to get things done, and his obsessive personality helps to ensure that everything is done quickly and efficiently.

Still, he knows he's at a disadvantage. At the end of the day, he is still a Weasley, and he is well aware of the connotations behind that name. Hogwarts had made it perfectly clear that there are too many people who will judge him by his name. Unfortunately, many of them are old money, and they have important positions within the Ministry. In theory, he's screwed.

But Percy will not give up. Maybe he can't change his name and who he is, but he can change himself, blend in, become something different. If he puts enough effort into it, if he builds himself up, they will notice and believe he is important because that's how he will project himself.

There's a knock at the door. Percy adjusts his tie one last time before focusing his attention on making sure his glasses are perfectly straight. Each adjustment puts them too high or too low on his nose, and it takes a lot of effort not to scream. "Come in!"

The door opens, and he can see his dad enter his room. "Nervous?" his dad asks, offering Percy a bright smile.

Percy supposes it's easy for his dad to smile. He's always been so carefree and relaxed, like the demands of the world cannot touch him. Sometimes, Percy wishes he could be more like his dad. Maybe life would be easier.

But he can't be like that. There's always going to be this nagging little voice in his head telling him he can be better, that he can do better. Sometimes he's amazed the Sorting Hat didn't put him in Slytherin—though it had tried. He's always been too ambitious for his own good.

"I'll be fine."

His dad steps forward and rests a hand on Percy's shoulder. Still smiling, the older man squeezes gently. "Of course! You _are_ a Weasley, after all," he says brightly.

Percy's stomach grows acidic. He isn't ashamed of his family, and he loves them all, but he doesn't want to be reminded of who he is right now. Percy Weasley doesn't matter. The Percy who steps into the Ministry today will be someone else entirely. He will not be defined by his surname; he will choose his own definition.

"Come on. Your mother has an early breakfast for us," his dad adds.

"I'll be down in a moment."

His dad nods and offers him one last smile before turning and leaving Percy alone with his thoughts. Percy sighs.

He shouldn't wouldn't so much, and he makes a promise to himself that he won't. The new Percy Weasley doesn't worry or fret. The new Percy Weasley is calm and can accomplish anything and everything.

If he believes it, he will become it.

Finally satisfied, he smiles at his reflection. This is a new chapter in his life, and he will embrace it.


	6. Now or Never

_Prompt of the Day: wine_

 _Postal: prefects bath_

 _Insane House Challenge: Now or Never_

 _Word Count: 368_

* * *

"Is that _wine_?" Penelope asks, brows raising as she lets her towel drop to the floor.

Percy swallows dryly, trying not to notice how beautiful she looks. Nodding, he returns his attention to the task at hand and pours two glasses.

"Meeting in the prefect bath after curfew for wine," she chuckles, stepping into the warm, sweetly perfumed water. "When did you become such a rebel, Percy?"

It takes several seconds for him to remember how to speak. He adjusts his glasses, clearing his throat. "I wouldn't exactly call myself a rebel," he murmurs, his cheeks warm with color. "I just…"

"I was teasing you," she chuckles, wading through the water until she's by his side. Grinning, she accepts a glass and lifts it to her lips, sipping it with a content sigh. "What's the occasion?"

Percy takes a deep breath, wishing he could stop shivering. He grips his glass, hoping it will help to steady him, but his wine just splashes about, dangerously close to spilling over the rim. He takes a deep drink. It isn't like he's asking her to marry him. Why should he be so nervous?

"Penny?"

He looks up from his glass, and he nearly melts. She is so beautiful, leaning against the side of the massive tub, her curls cascading down her bare shoulders. Not for the first time, he thinks he's dating a goddess.

"Yes, Percy?"

"I was wondering…" Percy takes a deep breath. It's now or never. He can do this. "I have a job lined up at the Ministry, and I know you plan on going into Healing… It doesn't have to be straight away, but I… Would you want to maybe try to get a flat together?"

Her eyes widen, and she is silent for several seconds. Her attention seems fixed upon her wine, as though it's the most interesting thing she's ever had. "That's an awfully big commitment, Perce," she whispers.

"I know."

He has never been one to take risks, but he has a good feeling about this. Penelope Clearwater is his future, and he has never felt more certain about anything in his life.

She closes the distance between them and kisses him gently. "Yes."


	7. Ambitious Dreams

_Prompt of the Day: hugging_

 _Postal: ambitious_

 _Hard piñata_

 _Bumper Cars: That hurt_

 _Word Count: 349_

* * *

He doesn't understand what's happening. There's an ethereal aura around the Ministry corridor, as though it's surrounded by a strange, softly glowing fog.

Percy steps closer, adjusting his glasses. He blinks rapidly, wondering if perhaps something is blurring his vision, but the fog is still there when he focuses his attention on the scene at hand. "Hello?"

Barty Crouch hurries forward, his lips twitching into a rare smile. As with everything else at the Ministry, he seems ethereal, like he isn't really completely there. "Good morning, Minister!"

Percy turns, expecting to see Cornelius Fudge behind him. The corridor is empty. When he turns his attention back to Crouch, he realizes the other man is looking at _him_.

"Me?" Percy asks, pointing to himself. "I'm the Minister for Magic?"

"Of course. Now, how about lunch, Minister?"

Percy's eyes open when he feels a sudden sharp pain spreading along his shin. "That hurt!" he groans, bolting upright and feeling blindly for his glasses.

"Yes, well, you talking in your sleep is hurting our sleep schedule," Fred tells him.

Percy abandons his search for his glasses. With a roll of his eyes, he lays back in bed. Within seconds, the twins pounce, both hugging him.

"Were you really dreaming that you were Minister, Perce?" George chuckles, playfully poking Percy's rib. "How dreadfully boring."

"Ambitious git," Fred agrees.

Percy struggles, but somehow he manages to free himself from their arms. He tries to focus on their faces, but their features are blurry and shrouded in darkness. "Listen here," he says. "Some of us have to work. Now, if you'll kindly excuse me…"

"Right, Minister," Fred laughs, hopping to his feet.

"Anything you say, Minister," George adds, joining his twin.

They're gone before Percy can tell them off. Once again, he sinks into his pillows with an exasperated sigh. His brothers can laugh and trade him all they want. There is nothing wrong with being ambitious. One day, they will see the name he makes for himself.

Becoming Minister may only be possible in his sleep for now, but there's nothing wrong with dreaming.


	8. Forward

_Going Postal: coffee_

 _Ice Cream Stall: DeanPercy_

 _Word Count: 443_

* * *

Percy doesn't know why he's here. His brothers insist that it's good for him. It's been a year since the war has taken Oliver from him, but the loss still feels so fresh.

Maybe they're right. Maybe the support group will do him some good. But he feels so afraid as he stands awkwardly to the side of the room, trying not to draw attention to himself.

He fails.

"Try the coffee." He recognizes the boy from the Gryffindor common room years ago, but he can't quite recall his name. "It's pretty good. Percy, right?"

"Yeah. Sorry. I don't remember yours."

The younger man chuckles and grabs a cup, offering him a bright grin. "Dean Thomas. Glad to have you here; I just wish it wasn't under such grim circumstances."

Percy nods awkwardly. He still doesn't want to be here. It feels so strange to share his pain.

But maybe he can. Maybe he can heal.

He pours himself a cup of coffee. When the meeting begins, Dean sits next to him.

…

They become fast friends. Dean is an artist and a dreamer, and he should clash with Percy's pragmatism, but it works out somehow.

Dean lost his boyfriend, Seamus, during the war, just as Percy had lost Oliver.

They share their grief, and Percy is amazed to realize that he can breathe again.

…

"I don't know what I would do without you," Percy says as he and Dean sit down for coffee in the Burrow's garden.

Dean shrugs. "I'm not that special," he murmurs, shaking his head.

"I think you're amazing."

He's been so afraid of opening up, of trusting anyone with the deepest, darkest pieces of himself and his pain. But Dean has made it easy, and it's so liberating.

Percy doesn't mean to develop feelings for Dean. It still feels like such a betrayal.

The feelings are there. And when Percy takes a chance and presses his lips to Dean, Dean returns the kiss without hesitation. At least Percy isn't the only one falling.

…

Things change slowly. They do not rush, and, during the moments where they finally give in to their feelings, it is peaceful.

"I don't want you to think I'm replacing him," Dean whispers, tracing his fingertips over Percy's lips.

"I know. You're not."

…

It isn't some miraculous romance. Dean doesn't heal him and make everything better again; he doesn't kiss the pain and make the darkness disappear forever.

But he makes life easier.

He doesn't judge when Percy needs to mourn. He understands.

…

Eventually, they don't need the support group anymore. They are still healing, still learning, but they are found.


	9. In His Corner

_Going Postal: a reunion_

 _Prompt of the Day: butterbeer_

 _Bumper Cars: false_

 _Insane House Challenge: mentor and student_

 _Hard piñata_

 _Word Count: 647_

* * *

Percy can't help but grin when the door to the tavern opens and Filius Flitwick steps inside. The Charms professor had always been his personal favorite, but he hasn't been able to keep in touch with his old mentor after leaving Hogwarts. "Professor!" he calls brightly, gesturing the short wizard over.

Flitwick beams at him. "Percy Weasley," he says, climbing onto the stool and taking a seat before clapping Percy on the back. "Good to see you, dear boy. I hear you're making your way up nicely through the Ministry."

Percy's face floods with heat. It isn't actually false. He's made great strides, but it hasn't been as rapid as he would like, especially after the Barty Crouch debacle the year before. Still, he's going places. Fudge has taken an interest in him, and it's only a matter of time before everything falls into place.

"Can I buy you a drink?" Percy asks. "I can tell you all about it."

Flitwick considers for a moment before nodding. "A gillywater, please," he tells the barmaid.

"And I'll have another butterbeer," Percy adds.

The woman nods and busies herself preparing the drinks. She sets the glasses before them, and Percy pays.

It still feels strange to be able to treat others. He's spent years being poor, but things are finally changing. His ambition that his brothers would mock him for is finally paying off. All he had to do was sever ties with those who would hold him back.

"I always knew you would do extraordinary things," Flitwick says proudly, stirring his drink before sipping it. "I've taught several Ministers, and mark my words, Percy. You have all the makings of a leader."

Percy takes a deep drink of butterbeer, the foam tickling his face as the warm liquid spreads through his body. "Thank you," he says.

So many people would laugh at him or tease and mock him for his dreams of moving up in the world. Even now, there are those at the Ministry that seem to think he's some sort of idiot, that his advancement is little more than a fluke. But Professor Flitwick talks about him with such pride that Percy feels tears threatening to fall. He blinks them away quickly, forcing his attention back to his butterbeer.

"You were always such a clever boy," the other man says, gently patting Percy's hand. "I often found it so strange that you weren't a Ravenclaw."

"I wanted to be," he admits. "I thought I belong there."

The Sorting Hat hadn't. It had seemed to think Gryffindor or Slytherin would have been his best match. Percy had felt no connection to his family's House, but it had been familiar, and he jumped on, desperate for some sense of stability.

Silence hangs between them. Percy finishes his drink just as Flitwick sets his empty glass on the bar with a content sigh.

"It was good running into, Percy," Flitwick says brightly, offering him a proud smile. "I rarely have proper reunions with my old students. It seems as though I only know what anyone is up to by reading the _Prophet._

Percy nods his agreement before hopping down from his stool. "Nice to see you, Professor. Thank you for believing in me."

It's all he's ever wanted. The world so often feels like it's such a burden, like it's on his shoulders and dragging him down. But someone is in his corner; someone knows that he is worth so much more.

"It's easy to see potential in people," the tiny wizard says, carefully climbing down and landing on his feet with a soft _thud._ "As clever as you are, I won't be surprised if I hear about you being sworn in his a Minister within the decade."

Percy beams. He remembers why Professor Flitwick had always been his favorite.

Now he just has to prove the man right.


	10. Missing You

Going Postal: letter

Insane House Challenge: Missing You

Hard piñata

Word Count: 321

* * *

There's another letter from his mother. Percy picks it up, and the temptation to read it is damn near suffocating.

Maybe there's a part of him that misses his family, that wants more than anything to return to the Burrow. But so much time has passed, and be has put so much distance between himself and his family. He even has trouble looking at his father when they end up in the lift together.

At first, he could convince himself it's because he's angry with his father. But that isn't quite right. Percy now realizes that he's angry with himself. That anger, coupled with the shame that turns his insides acidic, prevents him from even dreaming of returning.

His family would welcome him with open arms; Percy knows that, but he still hesitates. He doesn't deserve their love.

He lifts the envelope, turning it over in his hands. Tears sting his eyes, and he blinks them away stubbornly. How many letters has be burned? How many times has he turned his back on his family, desperately pretending they do not exist? He doesn't deserve his mother's kind words and sweet promises. If he reads about how much she loves and misses him, how desperately she wants to just hear from him, he might finally break down. Merlin knows he's so close to shattering as it is.

His hands tremble. He almost tears the envelope open. Almost.

He can't bring himself to do it. It doesn't matter how much he misses them, how much he wants the world to go back to normal and be part of the family again.

But he can't. In the end, he is still a coward who doesn't deserve to be a Gryffindor any more than he deserves to be a Weasley. His regrets mean nothing in the greater scheme of things.

All he can do is sit back and wait, forever hoping the world will chafe.


End file.
